Asphodel
by KaioM
Summary: Her eyes, already faded and glazed over with pain, slid shut. Knees buckled, but she can't feel herself hit the ground. A painfully erratic heartbeat admitted defeat. Yamanaka Ino was dead. (In Konoha, a small blonde girl blinked open her eyes, and nothing will ever be the same.) Time travel, AU, Ino-centric.


A/N: Finals week. Ick.

Everything I write about Genjutsu/Ninjutsu/anything is complete BS. Don't quote me on it.

And, just so we're clear, it seems like the Naruto manga has ended. So, to clarify, canon can just go screw itself, because there's no way in hell _that's_ happening.

* * *

><p>Yamanaka Ino should be dead.<p>

_I should be dead_.

Ino's pupil less teal eyes were wide—wider than considered normal—and warm tears—warm, but not what she expected; this was nothing like the burning hot sensation of blood running down your back, not nearly as painful, even if there was a strange pull in her chest like she had been stabbed, like someone was twisting a small knife further into her heart—slowly spilled across her face.

_This is not happening. This _can't_ be happening._

Naruto's face was pressed against Ino's shoulder, tiny, pained gasps of air puffing onto the bare skin—he felt so alive—of Ino's neck. The tip of the kunai piercing through the boy's stomach was almost touching Ino, but not quite, and there were so many more, stabbed into his flesh.

_He'll heal from this. He's gonna be fine. Of course he is. This is Naruto._

In a breathy, dying whisper, Naruto murmured, "Run."

Naruto's blood was splattered across Ino's body, staining her clothes and splashed across her cheeks. Ino's fingers convulsed momentarily, fingernails stabbing little crescent moons into her palms.

_This is _Naruto_. He can't—he won't—but—no—_

With more force, the choked voice reapplied the order. "Run, Ino."

A part of Ino was screaming in rage—_hatehatehate_—and another was sobbing, choking—_painpainpain_—but she can't breathe at all. It's like her throat snapped closed—_no more_—while the rest of her body struggled to collect oxygen and _survive_.

Uzumaki Naruto—_the_ Uzumaki Naruto, the ones the kids back at camp begged to hear stories about, the Prophecy Child, the _hero_ who couldn't just _die_ unless the world was _ending_—was going to die—for her, because apparently he was still an idiot, only now he was going to be a dead idiot—and for a moment, Ino wondered if the world had frozen over; if the reeling waves of Uzumaki Naruto's death had gotten all the way across the planet until everything just _stopped_.

But the world wasn't going to stop.

Unless Ino ran, she was—who cares about Ino, though, because if _Uzumaki Naruto_ is dead, there isn't any hope left; not for Ino, not for anybody—going to die, too.

Naruto tensed, and then slumped over, his entire body completely collapsing against Ino, and in that moment, the blonde knew her friend was gone. Dead.

_Oh, god._

Ino gagged against the thick smell of blood, stumbling back in what might have been shock. Narut—no, _the_ _body_—fell to the floor with a dull thump, completely limp. Ino had never felt so _dirty_ before, and tears started to spill down her bloody cheeks as she tried—_no no no no no no no no_—not to cry in earnest.

A glint of something shiny just in the distance, growing nearer and nearer and nearer—

One quick, tiny burst of smoke, and three more kunai slammed themselves into _the body_, and blood leaked away, pooling down and it was just so _funny_ that even _happened_ since _the body_ was _dead_.

Ino lunged into the trees, a tiny jet of gray flashing through the forest with a speed she never knew she had.

_I left him there, his body—can't go back, I'll die too—Naruto _needs_ to come back with me, he's worth more—everyone is going to need—I can't just _leave _him there to _rot_ without even a _gravestone_—everybody is—_

Ino twirled under a tree branch, leaping further up into the forest. She felt almost empty, and—_pain_—a void—_hate_—was slowly devouring—_kill_—every emotion she's ever felt, leaving only a small voice, whispering, "Run, Ino."

_I'm sorry, Naruto._

But the enemy—more than that, more personal than that, it _matters_ more than _that_—was catching up. Ino knew these forests—played in them and smiled in them and laughed in them and _loved_ in them, no matter how tainted her memories had become—and she knew her unpredictable turns would throw off anyone who didn't know where they were going; although, if someone _did_ recognize them somehow, then...

_Uchiha Madara._

Adrenaline slowly started to fade into pure—_helpmesaveme_—fear, and like a leech, it slowly pulled at her mind, until—_can'tbreathecan'tbreathe_—she could feel herself cracking under the pressure.

Stark, jet black, standing out against the green surrounding her, and Ino dived, flipping midair and skidding to a stop on a thick branch.

Ino stared, but her eyes weren't really seeing much. Blank—_empty_—pools of teal, seeing only a void—_rainbows and sunshine and happiness_—of black. She stared at him, watching the cruel smirk tilt across his face; his sick, twisted, beautiful face.

_Inbreeding, no doubt_, Ino thought, in one last moment of defiance.

Uchiha Madara opened his eyes, and they were the same shade of spotlight red Naruto's blood had been.

"Goodbye, Ino," he said. Ino could see all the evil she'd ever known stacked across his face—Orochimaru's sick smile, Pein's cold eyes, Gaara's bloodlust, Sasuke's vengeance, Hidan's arrogance, Obito's delusions—like plastic wrap.

Time slowed, pausing as though to draw out the pain to come. Her hands automatically started to slide into a single familiar seal, her lips forming words. The sword was nearing her, so slow Ino was nearly convinced it wouldn't come at all.

Then it was in her chest, stabbing straight through her body like she was made of butter—maybe she was—and it _hurt_ so badly, a slow burning sensation that got worse with each passing moment—another newfound respect for Naruto blossomed in Ino's bloody, lacerated heart.

_Run, Ino._

Blank, dead eyes stared into her enemy's stilled bloody ones, and she silently mouthed flat words, her fingers still in their delicate position facing outwards, her hands now pressed against his chest.

"Shintenshin no Jutsu," she breathed, and then there was no pain, no feeling, no body—only _Ino_, an invisible wisp of _something_—maybe a soul?

Madara's Mangekyo Sharingan eyes whirled madly, and Ino almost thought she saw panic—she couldn't have, though, because this was _Uchiha Madara_, and the war had been going on long enough for Ino to be sure that he never, ever, ever felt panic or fear or happiness or anything else _normal_ people felt— in them.

Then there was only nothing. The tiny wisp that was Ino snapped back into her own body—_why is there so much pain_—as though flung.

Her eyes, already faded and glazed over with pain, slid shut.

Knees buckled, but she can't feel herself hit the ground.

A painfully erratic heartbeat admitted defeat.

_Run, Ino_.

Yamanaka Ino was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>ASPHODEL<strong>

Chapter One  
>"One day, I'll fly away—leave all this to yesterday..."<br>-Satine, _Moulin Rouge_

* * *

><p>Ino took a huge gasping breath, her eyes shooting open; hands automatically came up to her chest, pressing against the skin covering her heart—it was weird to her since even through the haze of <em>alive<em> she could still manage to question how small her breasts seem to have become—the steady bumping pulse beneath it reassuring and comforting.

Panic flashed in wild turquoise eyes as they darted around the room. Where were they—what's happening next to—Naruto?

Ino flinched back, curling into herself. She didn't want to think about _the body_ any longer than she had too, and her thoughts were making it hard to ignore that _the body_ was dead.

Her fingers sunk into a warm, soft blanket. She sighed—this felt so blissfully like _home_; for the first time in years, everything seemed _safe_—and snuggled against it.

_Wait_.

She shifted carefully, sitting up and surveying her moonlight bathed surroundings. Loud lime green walls screamed across the room. There was a closet door on the wall across from her, a desk situated to the left, and a door that appeared to lead out into a hallway on her right. Ino glanced behind her; above the bed was a large window, letting in shafts of silvery light. Behind thick gray curtains beckoned a village of buildings, and even further were lively green trees. Ino stared, and four stone faces stared back.

Feet lightly touched to hard wood floor, and then they were padding out the door and through the hall. A hand reached for a doorknob—no hesitation—and pulled it open without a single squeak.

Ino flicked on the light switch, turning to the mirror.

Her hand inched forward and then raised, like she was about to wave; the girl in the mirror copied the action. Ino examined the girl's expression, her eyes narrowed. It looked like the girl in the mirror was trying very hard to be exceptionally serious, but her chubby, babyish face didn't allow it. The girl in the mirror was probably somewhere around six, with shoulder length bleach-blonde hair. She was wearing green shorts and a blue short sleeved shirt; the shorts had little carrots printed on them.

"Hey," Ino started, but then paused. The girl in the mirror had opened her mouth at the same time, and the voice Ino heard certainly wasn't her own; wasn't the girl in the mirror going to speak? "Go on," Ino urged, but then froze. The girl in the mirror mimicked her.

Ino reached a hand toward the girl, and the mirror girl did the same. The memory of Madara's spinning windmill eyes flashed across Ino's memory, an image that flung itself against Ino's consciousness like a train.

"Oh," Ino said finally, nodding. "You're supposed to be me."

The girl in the mirror continued nodding blithely until Ino stilled her jaw and watched the other girl do the same.

Then she sighed, sitting down on the floor. A yawn overtook Ino's mouth. Numb understanding spread throughout her body, and her muscles relaxed. This wasn't real, was it? "Kai," she ordered, and when nothing happened, Ino blinked stupidly at the tiled floor. "Kai," Ino said again, but her voice wavered with uncertainty. "Kai?" she tried, her hands in a familiar seal. The floor revealed nothing.

_Is this what shock feels like?_

Ino looked up at the ceiling. She tried to picture her mother's face, but nothing appeared in her mind's eye. Kaa-san had long since been forgotten; she'd died when Ino was eight. Then the war broke out, and there were simply too many dead people to bother remembering them all. Ino would rather protect camp than spend hours digging through enemy territory—used to be Konoha, used to be home, used to be safe—looking for photos of nearly forgotten ghosts.

_Naruto is one of those ghosts now._

Ino wondered why Madara hadn't just killed her.

He didn't seem to have any trouble with anyone else. Maybe she was a bargaining chip? But a bargain for what? There was nothing left he could want, except for their lives, and hardly anyone still around to bargain with either way.

Flashes of kunai and mocks of death were all that Madara would find.

_I like kunai—kunai are really shiny—I wanna learn Jutsu—the academy is okay—I wonder what heaven is like—Kaa-san is the prettiest girl in the world—I like puppies—puppies are cute—kitty cats are fuzzy—_

Ino blinked, shaking her head out dazedly. "Huh," she said. "That was weird." Her thoughts fled—only she couldn't catch them—and Ino had the strangest sensation of waking up from a dream she couldn't quite remember. An itch started in the back of her mind, and it was just on the tip of tongue.

_Sing we now of Hanukah—I like backpacks—I've only ever seen one other blond person who isn't family—kitty kitty mew mew—will I be pretty, will I be rich, and here's what she said—la la la, la la, la la la, la la—Sasuke-kun is so nice—he's so smart—wish I could be that—_

"Shut up!" Ino snarled to herself, leaping up.

The mocking mirror girl that instantly assaulted her vision was infuriating, and Ino's aggression spiked dangerously. Chakra blades erupted out of her hands, creating makeshift claws; Ino scratched at the mirror, then, when the only damage done were four clean cut lines, she slammed a fist into the glass. The reflective surface shattered upon impact, falling down into the sink with a nasty series of clunks. Ino's hand dripped with blood, but she didn't seem to notice.

_I like flowers—hee, cupcakes are tasty—_

Her face suddenly relaxed completely, and she giggled. "I like rainbows," she tittered, smiling to herself. "They're pretty. My hair is pretty, too." She paused, tilting her head to the side contemplatively and leaning against the sink. "Naruto has blond hair, too, but not like mine—"

Ino gasped, jumping up. The girl in the mirror copied her action, looking surprised and almost dismayed. "Naruto!" Ino choked out. "He—and then Madara—what kind of Genjutsu _is_ this?"

"Ino?" a woman's voice asked, tired but regal. "What are you doing?"

Ino slowly turned to face the voice, her eyes round little circles of teal. A woman with chocolate brown eyes and messy, similarly colored hair was standing in the doorway. Her soft face was twisted with a quiet, stern expression.

"Kaa-san?" Ino whispered, horrified. How could someone she didn't even remember appear in a Genjutsu? Was Madara in her head?

But how? He couldn't do that... Could he? His eyes—those spinning red eyes—had limits, didn't they? How could—but—!

The woman rubbed her eyes wearily, but then they suddenly widened with angry focus. "Ino! What did you do to the mirror?" The woman suddenly gasped. "You're bleeding!" she accused.

"Yeah," Ino admitted. "I guess I am."

"What is _wrong_ with you, child?" the woman asked rhetorically, but there was an answer bubbling to the surface of Ino's face.

Ino stared at the woman. She lifted her bloody fist. The liquid beaded, then, when surface pressure became too weak to hold it, the drops spilled down her hand in small streams. Ino wondered if there were any shards of glass in it.

"Why did you _do_ that?" the woman demanded loudly, but her voice had faded to a dull buzzing white noise in the dank side of Ino's awareness. The blood—a burning heat fiercer than her tears ever were—dripped to the pristine white tile floor.

And it _hurt_.

She looked up at the woman. "This hurts," Ino said, sounding confused. "I don't think it's enough to wake me up, though."

The woman's mahogany brown eyes widened, narrowed, and then flat lined. "Ino, explain yourself."

In response, Ino brought a hand to her index finger's blood knuckle, and, in one twist, dislocated it.

Her eyes widened, and a low hiss escaped her lips. It escalated to a yelping cry, and tears—actual _tears_, Ino realized—escaped her eyes. Ino's breath came out in panicked little puffs; one finger was almost _always_ enough pain to shake her out of Genjutsu in which her release failed, and now it _wasn't working_. Fear shook the cool numbness from her body, like someone dusting cobwebs from an old shelf, and then picking up one of the books for kicks.

"Ino!" the woman—_my mother_, Ino dimly acknowledged—cried. "What are you doing? You _are_ awake!" The woman—_Kaa-san_ a chirpy voice in Ino's head informed her helpfully—twisted behind her to look at a clock, then growled, low in her throat. "Why did you have to pull something like this at 3:07 in the morning?"

Ino didn't speak; she looked into the girl in the mirror's eyes, and within them, saw herself.

The sink was still smooth marble, even with shattered pieces of glass marring it. The faucet looked especially shiny, Ino noticed. It had always been a reddish bronze; Ino remembered, because she'd always thought it looked like her mother's eyes.

The faucet didn't look back. It didn't say or do anything to defend any genuine attributes it may or may not have.

The pain faded from her mind, and all Ino could think about—_what now what is this why is this what am I supposed to do should I believe it_—was the perfectly reddish bronze sink faucet and the hint of green that Ino'd caught in the corner of her eye.

* * *

><p>Lying across a sheet covered table, Ino's hand throbbed.<p>

It was wrapped in white gauze and bandages. The medic who'd cleaned and bandaged it had given Ino a long lecture on violence and dangerous activities, but Ino hadn't really been listening.

_Genjutsu rely on the minds of both the target and the caster_, Ino mentally recited to herself. _If both are missing certain details, they will not exist. However, the target or the caster sometimes contribute to the Genjutsu. For instance, if the caster implements a particular element that the target is unaware of, there is a chance it will appear, depending on the strength of the target's mental barriers._

Ino frowned. _But... Kaa-san. I forgot almost everything about her, except for her eye color, and that was only because of the faucet, which I _know_ Madara couldn't have known about. And as a Yamanaka, my mental defenses should be strong enough to withstand any foreign elements of a Genjutsu based around my own knowledge or memories._ Ino growled to herself, staring at the clunky white ball that hid her hand like she wanted to set it on fire. When nothing happened, she found herself strangely disappointed.

If only her mother had been there, Ino would have declared it Genjutsu. After all, a lot of people knew what she looked like, and it wouldn't be hard for Madara to find a picture in the wreckage of Konoha. It seemed like a lot of effort to Ino, but if he had trapped her instead of killing her, then there would probably be theatrics.

If only the faucets were there, Ino would have definitely declared it Genjutsu. Most quickly cast Genjutsu relied only on the target's thoughts or memories, usually to trick them into thinking something they _want_ to happen _is_ happening. Besides, even if she didn't remember her mother's face, Ino knew enough to know that Yamanaka Noriko, her mother, had existed at some point.

But you couldn't do both.

Either the caster creates a world for the target to inhabit—like painting a picture and then tossing the target into it—or the caster allows the target to create their own trap, personalize and bedazzled.

It didn't add up. Genjutsu couldn't pull details from the target and the caster. Maybe the Genjutsu took the knowledge that Ino had a mother and then gave her the vintage of a stranger Ino had forgotten about? Maybe Genjutsu techniques created through the Mangekyou Sharingan were different?

There was no other alternative. This was a Genjutsu, and Uchiha Madara's fully evolved eyes had to be the cause.

_What did Madara's eyes do, again?_ Ino squinted ponderingly at the layered gauze. She'd been feeling stupidly naive and slow ever since waking up in this...whatever it is. It always felt like she was missing something important, and it was on the tip of her tongue, but not quite close enough to reach. _I know his eyes had some special power or something, just don't really remember what._

Footsteps tentatively pattered by the door. Ino glanced up, then rolled her eyes. She scrunched her face up in thought. _Wasn't it, like, dimension travel, or some shit like that?_

_That's a bad word, _a voice in Ino's head cried, scandalized.

Because that was helpful.

_Okay_, Ino thought. _So this is a Genjutsu. What now?_

A moment of mental and physical silence ensued, until Ino growled, hefting her hand. She swung it up and over her head, preparing to smash the stupid gauzy globe of Genjustu fabricated _lies_ against the table, and maybe wake herself up in the process, when the door creaked open.

Ino froze, glancing up. She instinctively fell into a "deer-in-the-headlights" look, but quickly cowed it. _This is just a Genjutsu, not friends or family,_ she chided herself. _These images don't matter._

"Ino!" fake-mother cried, distressed. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to smash my hand against the table," Ino said pleasantly, as though her behavior was perfectly rational; and it was, really. "Why do you ask?"

The fake-medic standing behind fake-mother sighed. "Ino, please explain to your mother and I—"

"That is _not_ my mother." Ino pushed her nose up and snorted haughtily. "Did you think I was that stupid? Are you going to torture me now? Huh?"

The fake-medic blinked, clearly attempting to act confused. Ino almost rolled her eyes; fake-medic wasn't doing a very good job, and the guy pulling the strings was to blame for the crappy acting. "Excuse me?" fake-medic asked slowly.

"Humph," Ino snorted. She looked up at the ceiling. "What kind of Genjutsu is this, Madara? Throwing in a fake mother and a fake medic nin and an entire fake Konoha..." Ino's voice broke; she covered it up with a bitter laugh. "That's a lot of effort for little old me, isn't it?"

Fake-mother gaped. Fake-medic gaped, too. Then fake-mother grappled for the fake-door, stumbled out into the fake-hallway, and fake-medic followed.

"Coward!" Ino shrieked. "You coward! I hate you! I _hate_ you!" A sob escaped her lips. "I hate you," she whimpered. "I hate you."

Ino took a deep breath. "Can't you just kill me?" she asked. "Why did you do this?"

She felt so _tired_ all of a sudden, like she'd been sitting awake for hours eating cake, and now the sugar was starting to crash.

Ino blinked sleepily. "Damn Genjutsu," she muttered, her eyes drooping. "Damn." Her eyelids fell further. There had to be something making her so _sleepy_, so _suddenly_, but before she could delve further into curses, Ino realized, with a start, that it was herself. She _wanted_ to sleep.

Her eyes slipped shut, and Ino's face relaxed. Her fists unclenched, her toes uncurled, and, for a moment, her mind was almost completely blank.

_Only for a minute,_ Ino told herself. _Then I'll get up._

Sleep overtook her, and she didn't think anything more.

* * *

><p>Capgras Syndrome.<p>

That's what Ino has, they explained. Capgras Syndrome.

Capgras Delusion—or Capgras Syndrome—is a disorder in which a person holds a delusion that a friend, family member, or pet has been replaced by an identical impostor, they explained with the tact of a bull in a china chop. Cases in which patients hold the belief that time has been "warped" or "substituted" have also been reported, they added.

She likely won't recognize you or anyone else close to her, they said when Noriko started to speak. She believes you to have been replaced with an imposter, and there is little way to rewrite that belief. It's associated with head trauma, they helpfully noted with a rather pointed look.

There is no cure, they said. She's going to need a lot of therapy, they said. Has anything happened? they asked. Has anyone questionable been talking to her recently? Anything? they begged. Anything at all?

There is no cure, they reassured her.

Don't worry, they said when they saw Noriko's face. We've already taken it upon ourselves to have your daughter restrained. Wouldn't want her to hurt herself, they said.

Don't cry, they said. Lots of people have been diagnosed with this disorder over the years. We know how to treat it now, they insisted.

Stop crying, they ordered. Stop.

We don't even know what form Ino has, they said. Her case may be only a transient occurrence, they said.

Please, stop crying.

* * *

><p>In a hospital room, leather straps pinning her to a bed, Yamanaka Ino opened her eyes, blinked, then said, still in a slightly dreamlike state, "Ano, is this because I stole a cupcake from Sakura-chan yesterday?"<p>

She wiggled against the leather straps, confused. "This stuff is starting to kind hurt," she murmured, sounding confused. "Kaa-san?" Ino called, strangely calm. "Tou-san?"

The blonde sighed to herself. "Rats." She didn't move for a moment, her body frozen in a moment of dysfunctional confusion.

The second passed, and Ino glanced around the room; she stared into a camera in the upper left hand corner. A red light on the recording device went on and then off at random intervals. "Erm, Kaa-san?" Ino struggled lightly in the bonds before falling limp.

"Rats," she said again with feeling. "Rats."

Hidden deep under mental layers of tightly knitted steel, Yamanaka Ino slept. Blinking dumbly at a camera, Yamanaka Ino remained awake.

"Um, hello?"

The red light flicked on.

"Anyone theeere?"

The red light flicked off.

"Seriiioooouusssly! I'm talking to you!"

On.

"My Kaa-san says it's very rude to ignore someone when they talk to you, and she's my Kaa-san, so she would know!"

And off.

"Are you doubting my Kaa-san?!"

On.

"Well!" Ino fumed, offended. "I've never met someone so _rude_ in my _entire_ life! I've been alive an entire _seven_ years, 'ya know! I've met a lot of people, and you're the rudest—"

Off.

"How dare you interrupt me! If my Tou-san were here, you'd be sorry!"

On.

"I hate you, red light!" Ino declared. "We're now lifelong enemies—no, lifelong rivals—no, lifelong _nemeses_—wait, nemesi? I don't know—"

Off.

"Rivals, then!"

A moment of stability... The light turned on.

"Humph!" Ino pointedly turned her face away from the tiny flickering light. "You aren't even worth the title of rival, you stupid light!"

"Yamanaka Ino?"

Ino jumped to attention—or, she tried to, but it was kind of hard with those things holding her against the bed—and twisted her body—those restraints were really cramping Ino's style—toward the voice. "That's me!" she yipped excitedly. "I'm right here! That's me!"

"I have a visitor here for you."

"Cool!" Ino chirped. "But can't I just go home?"

"No," the formless voice said flatly. "Your visitor is coming in now. Please remain calm."

"Murkay?" she questioned. "I'll try my best to—Kaa-san!" Ino struggled valiantly against the bonds, but to no avail.

"Hello, Ino," Yamanaka Noriko said, and Ino winced; her Kaa-san sounded so formal and distant; she only did that when she was _really_ angry, and Ino hadn't done anything!

... Okay, there was the cupcake.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she replied, but then the babbling started. "I can't really move the way I like in this bed—what's up with this bed, anyway? It's not too uncomfortable, but I wiggle a lot in my sleep so it isn't really working for me. And my lifelong nemesis or rival or enemy—that's the annoying red light on the camera, Kaa-san, in case you don't know—won't stop trying to irritate me! The red light was rude to me, and then to you, Kaa-san! The red light wouldn't stop blinking—on, then off, then on, then off—no matter what I said! It was _horrible_, Kaa-san! Can I go home now? I promise to never take Sakura-chan's food ever again!"

Noriko blinked. "Ino-chan, do you remember what you did yesterday?"

Ino flushed with shame. "I _know_, Kaa-san, but I'll never take her cupcakes ever again; what if I made Sakura-chan a cupcake, to apologize? Then can I go home? Pretty please?"

When Noriko didn't say anything, Ino whined, "Please, Kaa-san? I promise I'll be good. Why do I have to stay here?"

Noriko turned swiftly and walked to the door so fast Ino almost thought she was running—but Kaa-san never ran, it was unwomanly. "Kaa-san?" Ino asked, panicked. She struggled frantically against the leather ties holding her in place. "Kaa-san! Please, wait! Please! I'm sorry! Please don't—"

The door slammed shut behind Noriko.

"—go..."

Ino stared at the door, looking very surprised and a bit miffed. She glared up at the red light, eyes glistening.

"I guess it's just you and me now, rival." She narrowed her eyes. "You insulted Kaa-san, and then she left me here! What do you have to say for yourself?" Ino yowled out.

The light blinked off.

"You stupid light!" Ino shouted.

On.

"I bet your mother was a fish," she accused.

Off.

"Oh? And your father was a zebra? How did that work?"

On.

"Have you no weakness?" Ino snarled in frustration.

The light, seemingly indifferent, flicked off.

Ino hissed, but didn't dignify the light with a reply. She wiggled as best she could in her predicament, but couldn't manage to face away from the red light. "This is idiotic," Ino growled. "What are these things even _for_, anyway? I didn't do anything!" She paused. "Well, okay, so I admitted to stealing Sakura's cupcake. And, yeah, I might've cheated on the last written exam. But, come on! That's not that bad!"

Silence. The red light blinked on.

"_Fine_ then!" A sudden plume of smoke blanketed Ino's hospital bed. It cleared, revealing that Ino's body had been replaced an IV drip. Ino stretched, yawning. "My arms are so sore," she complained, cracking her back. Glancing behind her, Ino shrugged.

The door slammed open, and Ino jumped in surprise, yelping, "Gosh, why is that door so loud?" before two women spilled in. They didn't close the door.

"Ino," one of the women said gently, "please stay calm. We don't want to hurt you, and we don't want you to hurt yourself. You recognize me, don't you? I treated your hand yesterday, remember?"

Ino raised an eyebrow. "Um, no," she said flatly. "Who are you?"

The first woman, the one who claimed to know Ino, whispered something to the other one. "Please, remain calm," the first woman said. "We don't want to hurt you."

"Who's going to hurt me?" Ino asked, slightly alarmed.

"No one!" the second woman was quick to insist. "Nobody! Of course not! Why would any of us hurt you?"

When Ino only looked less convinced, the first woman repeated, "Please, remain calm," and took a couple cautious steps forward.

"Erm, please stop." Ino glanced around, starting to panic. It felt like suddenly everyone—who were these people anyway?—was out to get her, and everything in the room—the IV drip, the bed, that damn red light, the hard looking concrete walls—looked like a weapon. "Where's my mom? Who are you? Where am I?"

The second woman held out a hand, stopping the first one. "Ino, we just want to ask you a few questions. Could you answer a few questions for us? Your mother says you're very smart."

"I guess I _could_..." Ino scuffed her foot on the ground and then shuffled backwards to compensate for the first woman's movements. "Maybe..."

"Thank you!" the first woman chirps. "Your mother was right, Ino-chan!"

Ino almost beamed. _These people don't matter_ echoed in her head, and Ino's face fell halfway through the expression.

"Just ask your questions already," Ino ordered sourly.

"Ino, what was yesterday?" the second woman asked.

"Friday. I was at the academy, and then I..." Ino paused, thinking. "I think I... Well..." Suddenly, Ino's fists clenched and she growled, "I don't _know_, I just woke up here!"

The first woman tensed. Ino tensed in turn. The second woman just smiled and asked, "Have you ever seen Akari-san—the woman beside me—before?"

"Never!" Ino declared. Wrinkling her nose, she added, "I wouldn't want to, either!"

Without skipping a beat, the first woman said, "Do you know what happened to your hand?"

Ino glanced down at her hand and flexed her fingers a couple times. It looked fine to her. "Did something happen to my hand?" she questioned, looking up.

"Yup!" Akari chirped. "It was horribly bloody and really, really gross! It shouldn't have healed by now, either!" The second woman shushed her companion, but Ino really didn't see anything wrong with her hand. "Where did the gauze go, anyway?" Akari wondered.

Ino ignored a puffy ball of white fluff that she had haphazardly thrown into the corner after freeing herself from the bed. "What gauze?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and widening her eyes in what she knew was a perfect expression of innocence.

"It doesn't matter," the second—well, first, now that Akari is being called by name—woman said. "Here's your last question, Ino. How did you get out of the bed?"

Kawarimi. That's how. And even though Ino didn't really know what Kawarimi was, she opened her mouth to tell the lady so.

Instead, she ended up saying, "Like this," and then she was landing on top of a tree branch. Ino yelped, and, and in her shock, slammed face first into a particularly poisonous looking bustle of leaves.

She tumbled off the tree, flipping midair, and the ground looked so small, even though it was getting larger and larger—

Ino's hand attached itself to the tree trunk, and she skidded painfully for a couple of terrifying seconds. Then Ino was hanging by her—suddenly sticky—hand.

"Ow," Ino muttered. She was staring up at her hand, her face twisted in confusion. Ino scrambled, kicking her legs up against the tree trunk and putting her right hand next to the sticky one. "What?"

With some difficulty, she put one of her feet flat against the tree trunk, and suddenly Ino _knew_. A warmth flowed down to her foot, and then it was just as sticky as her hand. With a start, Ino realized the same river of warmth was being speared off to her hand. She cut it off, grinning proudly, and then when she wavered backwards, Ino instantly rerouted the warmth straight back to it.

This was so _hard_, though! It was like... It was like she knew exactly what to do, and exactly how to do it, but it just wasn't _working_.

"What 'cha 'doin?" a voice demanded from below her. Ino yipped in surprise, and the warmth flinched back, away from her hand and her foot and Ino caught a glimpse of bright yellow but—

She was falling.

Ino was still reaching a hand toward the tree, and the sky suddenly looked so, _so_ blue, when—

That's weird. The ground was strangely soft. And—moving?

Ino screamed, jumping up and flinging herself away from the freaky moving ground. Things that were out of the ordinary were never good. She prepared a horrible, horrible glare for this horrible, horrible moving chunk of yellow ground, and then she realized the ground was actually a _person_. The glare withered and died.

"Gah!" The person leaned over and spat up wads of grass before fixing Ino with an accusing stare. "What was _that_ for?"

"It's your fault for sneaking up on me!"

"How is it _my_ fault that _you_ fell outa the tree?" The blond boy looked affronted at the mere suggestion.

"It just is!" Ino insisted, rolling her eyes. "And if we're gonna be friends, you need to accept that!"

The boy gapped. "My friend? But—I—who said I wanted to be _your_ friend, anyway? You're a _girl_."

"No, I'm Ino," Ino corrected. "Who're you?"

He stared at her. "Naruto?" the boy said, unsure. "A boy?"

"Which is it?" Ino demanded. "Are you Naruto or are you a boy?"

Naruto blinked, looking adorably confused. "Erm, both?" He was staring at her with wide eyes, like he'd never held a real conversation before in his life.

But since he probably hadn't, Ino was willing to forgive him.

* * *

><p>Akari groaned, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her first important assignment of the week, and what happens? The maybe-not mental clan heir went <em>missing<em>.

This was horrible.

"Wah!" Akari sobbed. "This is _so horrible_ and I'm going to be_ fired_ and why did _this_ have to happen to me, anyway? I need this job! Waaaah!"

In the midst of her angst, she almost didn't hear the distant "Akari-san!" As it was, she just barely caught it, but decidedly ignored it, instead opting to make her pity party a little bit more elaborate. Metaphorical—and quite literal—streamers of tears spun across her face, and Akari briefly pondered the idea of spending the rest of her savings on cake, when the shout came again, slightly louder now.

"Akari-san!"

Akari despairingly opened her eyes, and recoiled in shock, yelping in surprise. Her eyes grew wide, and she gapped.

Perched lightly on the windowsill and now tapping lightly on the glass was Yamanaka Ino, the exact cause—and solution—of Akari's problem.

Tears of joy built in the young medic's eyes.

"Could you open the window?" Ino mouthed, and Akari nodded enthusiastically, lunging forward and pulling the locks loose. She tugged the window open with frightening speed. Ino tumbled into the room and directly into Akari's waiting arms.

"Murrtickaph," Ino cried, voice muffled. "Unendeee!"

Ignoring it, Akari practically danced back to Ino's original treatment room, singing praises under her breath. "Look who I found!" she cried, exploding into the room.

A senior nurse and male patient both looked up, shocked and in a rather incriminating position. Akari paused, glanced at the room number, and then smiled apologetically. "Sorry, wrong room!"

Exiting, Akari carefully stepped to the left and, after making sure it was the right room, reexploded in and repeated excitedly, "Look who I found!"

Yamanaka-san gasped, sniffling, and looked up. "Ino!" she cried.

Akari smiled, releasing the clan heir, who instantly attached herself to her mother.

"It looks like her case was transient," Akari announced, sounding a little disappointed. "But we still need to do a couple preliminary recovery tests!" Now there's some excitement.

"Okay," Ino said agreeably from behind Yamanaka-san.

"We might have to do follow up exams to make sure your case isn't chronic, but for now, you're free to go!" Akari waved her hand vaguely. "You know, since us medics are the ones who have to do the paperwork."

"Makes sense." Ino nodded as though she understood. Yamanaka-san herded her daughter toward the door.

"Make sure to pay the bill on your way out!" Akari reminded helpfully, smiling. Her career was saved!

The door clicked shut behind the Yamanaka clan heir, and Akari grinned, skipping over to the clipboard. The appointment was going to be officially rewritten.

* * *

><p>"Never do anything like that ever again," Yamanaka Inoichi ordered. "Ever."<p>

"But I don't even know what I did!" Ino complained, her head rolling back over the edge of her chair.

"Well, don't do it," Noriko said tersely, strict and orderly in all her former glory.

"Kaa-san..." Ino felt an annoyed, embarrassed blush rise on her cheeks. She brightened suddenly. "Ne, is tomorrow Monday?"

"No, tomorrow is Wednesday. You missed a couple days of school, so I expect you to try your best to catch up," Noriko lectured. "Don't worry, a child about your age has recently been moved into your class, so no one will be too focused on your mistakes, but Ino, if your class ranking is—"

"I _know_, Kaa-san! Gosh." Ino crossed her arms. Ever since Ino had apparently done something to earn herself a stay in that hospital thing, Kaa-san had been so distant. "How much could Misami-sensei teach in three days? My class ranking won't fall, I won't dishonor the clan, blah-dy, blah-dy, blah."

"Ino!" Noriko gasped, affronted. "Don't take that tone with me!"

Ino flushed, this time with shame. "Sorry, Kaa-san," she said sincerely.

A tiny voice in her head mumbled, almost like a reflex, _Fake Kaa-san_.

Ino smiled as her parents descended into an argument over what kind of mushrooms to eat with dinner. If her smile cracked—not to say it did—or showed just a little bit too much teeth—but it didn't, not really—no one said a word.


End file.
